


The Last Thing He Expected

by jazzyproz



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzyproz/pseuds/jazzyproz
Summary: She had asked him to follow her to England... The invitation alone told him that she wanted more - but when he arrived, things were not what he was expecting.
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 43
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Hello and welcome! Thanks for stopping by to read my story!
> 
> This idea has been rattling around in the JazzyMuse brain for a while. I am pretty sure there are excerpts contained herein which are completely unbelievable...  
> I beg of you to suspend your logic and reason for a little while for this fic. The JazzyMuse was very insistent on writing it, no matter how unlikely the events. I don’t know how easy it was to telephone between Britain and Australia in 1928-ish; I don’t know if the flying times represented here are accurate in the least; I don’t know if the adventure on which Jack sets out was even a thing… I was just along for the ride as the Muse took over, which is why I ask you to do the same. 
> 
> I haven’t written anything since May; I’ve been battling a bit of depression and I’m hoping this snaps my dry spell!
> 
> A little drama, a little light angst, with a healthy dose of sappy romanticism to follow…. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own anything related to MFMM or it’s characters. I am simply enjoying placing them into this little tale woven by the JazzyMuse.

Phryne rolled her eyes in frustration, barely biting back a spike of anger as she slammed her book closed.

“Mother, I didn’t fly Father halfway around the world just so you could play matchmaker! I am perfectly capable of finding company on my own, when  _ and if  _ I wish.” 

“Well then, why  _ don’t  _ you, dear? You’ve been in London for  _ three  _ weeks and I have it on good authority that you’ve turned down no less than seven invitations from gentlemen of suitable standing. Honestly, darling, I never thought I’d see the day when, instead of accepting the invitations of fine, properly-matched gentlemen, you’d rather sit in the library and  _ read a book _ .”

“I’ve been to  _ four  _ galas and two luncheons in three weeks, mother! I’ve mingled, played nice, socialized with the right people and have yet to scandalize anyone!” Her book slipped to the floor as she pushed to her feet, angry at her mother’s interference. “The fact that I’m not jumping at the first opportunity to bed the next Lord or Viscount who bows before me, offering champagne and a healthy bank account, is hardly cause for panic. Besides, I thought I made it perfectly clear that I’m not staying in London,” she raised her chin defiantly. “Why would I set out to make a permanent bond with anyone here?” 

“Since when are your bonds  _ permanent _ , darling?” Her mother leveled a pointed stare at her normally flirtatious daughter. When she received no response, she simply arched an eyebrow and sighed. “We’re having a small gathering for supper this evening, Phryne. Lord and Lady Harold Barrow and their son James, as well as the Count and Countess Haag and their sons Walter and Byron. Please do be on your best behavior, darling.” 

Growing angrier by the moment, Phryne folded her arms and shifted her weight to one hip. “Impressive, Mother, a veritable  _ buffet  _ of suitable bachelors, then?” Phryne loved her mother dearly, but the more time she spent in her company, the more she remembered exactly why she felt so compelled to get the hell away from her in the past, having jumped at the chance to join the Ambulance Corps in 1916.

Impatient with her daughter’s negative and ungrateful attitude, she grew serious. “Phryne, you have had your chance at fun, you have revelled in your aimless traveling and foolish adventures. It’s time you think about settling down and living up to our familial expectations as a member of the Fisher family. There are certain societal standards that must be upheld.” 

“Oh, what  _ rot _ , Mother! A month ago you were prepared to file for a formal separation from Father because of his gambling and philandering! The only reason he is here is because  _ I _ flew him back! I left my home, my family and friends-”

“ _ We _ are your family, Phryne,” her Mother interrupted. “ _ This _ is your home. Why must you always be so difficult and so contradictory? You’ve had opportunities that your sister never had and you’re just turning your back to them!”

Inhaling sharply, she fisted her hands at her sides. This was not the first time in the past several weeks that her Mother had tried to make her feel guilty for loving a full life while little Janey was buried in the family plot. While her mother had always been a challenge, she hadn’t been so cruel. Bending over to collect her book from where it landed on the floor, she flipped her hair sharply. “I have to bathe for dinner. I’m not discussing this  _ again. _ ”

Margaret watched her eldest daughter storm up the staircase, her own temper nearing its limit. For a brief moment, she remembered the sweet girl that Phryne was before the loss of Janey shattered their family. After Jane had been snatched mid-day, never to be seen again, Phryne had begun to rebel, to lash-out against authority, to challenge the rules until they bent to her will. It seemed that all the time she’d spent on her own had disillusioned Phryne into believing that she didn’t have responsibilities to her family, that she was free to do as she wanted with her life. Margaret Fisher knew she would have to yield a heavy hand to rein in the free-spirited young woman if there was any hope at all in the Fisher name continuing. 

~MFMM~

Gaining control of her emotions, Phryne refrained from throwing her novel across her bedroom when she slammed the door shut. She had no real desire, however, to damage the book that she hoped Jack would also enjoy. Sitting at her desk, she quickly penned two notes before ringing for her young chambermaid. Phryne hastily shoved the messages into a single envelope, sealed it and pushed it into the girl’s hand, along with several coins. 

“Marie, I need you to take these down to the telegraph office  _ straight away. _ I cannot go there myself as I must prepare for what will surely prove to be an  _ insufferable  _ supper. Inform the telegraph operator that the sending details are contained within, and I want you to wait there for a confirmation that they’ve both been received.” She met the girl’s wide eyes. “I suspect you’ll receive a response from one of them straight away… If, when you return we are dining, please feel free to quietly interrupt with any confirmations or return telegrams... and you may keep the leftover money from the fees.”

“Miss,” Marie was confused as she was ushered from the room with the same sense of urgency with which she’d been summoned. “Do you not need my help dressing?” 

“What I  _ need _ is for you to do what I just requested. Take these quickly, before the office closes. It’s all  _ very  _ urgent.” With nothing more to say, she closed her door and leaned against it, steadying her breath. She knew that her treatment to Marie was unfair, but she didn’t have the patience for kindness in that moment. Grabbing the newspaper that still sat, unread, on her bedside table since that morning, she flopped down onto her chaise lounge and started flipping the pages angrily, a plan forming so seamlessly that she reprimanded herself for not doing it sooner. 

~MFMM~

The dinner conversation was pleasant enough, as long as she ignored the constant posturing of the single men strategically seated around her. In a different time, in a different place, she may have appreciated the abundant attention. Between her mother’s meddling, however, and the sheer fact that she could finally admit that her heart was no longer her own, she found herself more than a little impatient with the whole tedious affair. 

“Begging your pardon, Miss,” Louis, the butler, spoke quietly to Phryne. “Marie was quite insistent that she was instructed to interrupt you. I felt it improper to allow her entry to the dining hall, though, as she is still dressed in her errand clothing. This is marked  _ Urgent _ .” 

Phryne smiled and accepted the telegram envelope. “Thank you,” she replied softly. Ignoring the disapproving glare from her mother, she ripped the envelope open, holding it low in her lap, and quickly read the response.  _ Perfect _ , she thought with relief as she tucked the note back into its protective sleeve and slipped it under her napkin.  _ Everything will be ready at dawn _ …  _ It pays to have friends at the Lower London airfield _ .

Following the dessert course, and finally having had enough of the not-so-subtle  _ suitability  _ hints coming from her Mother, Phryne primly folded her napkin from her lap and placed it on the table. With a saccharine-sweet smile, she rose to her feet, smoothing her palms down the front of her skirt as she glanced around at the faces watching her curiously.

“I want to thank you all for the wonderful company this evening, and I beg your forgiveness for not joining you in the parlor for after-dinner-drinks.” She picked up her telegram. “It was lovely to share a meal and such...  _ stimulating _ conversation on this, the eve before my departure. I really must bid you all adieu, however, as I have an early day tomorrow and an arduous journey ahead. I’m sure you understand.” 

Confused expressions stared back at her from their guests, and her parents simply gaped, their mouths falling open in unison. Her Mother spoke up, but her Father wisely kept his thoughts to himself. 

“Leaving?  _ Tomorrow? _ ” Margaret also rose to her feet, her shoulders squared in preparation for a stand-off with her daughter. “What are you talking about, Phryne? You never said anything about leaving so soon. We have accepted invitations to a charity balls and galas in the coming weeks!” 

“ _ You _ accepted invitations, Mother,  _ not I. _ ” Taking a slow, cleansing breath, she didn’t let her eyes waver. “I must be getting back to Melbourne, to attend to urgent matters.”

“What urgent matters?!” Her mother demanded. “Let me see that,” she motioned to the envelope fisted tightly in her daughter's hand. 

“I have to tend to some… important issues…”

“What could possibly be so urgent in Melbourne that you can’t deal with through the most modern channels of communication,” she motioned to the telegram. “Even telephone conversations can be accomplished for business these days! Besides, you are the one always claiming to be a thoroughly modern woman, Phryne, why not utilize thoroughly modern technology?”

Phryne bit the inside of her cheek… she should be ashamed how easily the fib was forming in her brain… “I have many  _ logistical  _ concerns to see to... before my impending nuptials.” 

At that, Henry Fisher squared his shoulders and stood so quickly that his chair nearly fell backwards. “ _ Nuptials!? _ What the hell are you talking about?” He ignored the gasps of surprise from their guests at his outburst and pointed to the telegram she clasped close to her body. “What’s in that bloody telegram?”

“Nuptials to whom!?” Margaret met Phryne’s stubborn expression with one of her own, ignoring her husband's outburst. 

“I’ll be sure to send you the formal announcement once it’s been made public. For now, however,” she smirked, feeling good about her hasty departure, if only to escape future hellacious dinners such as the one she’d just endured, “I must simply say good night.” She turned once again to their guests, proud of herself for having the upper hand. “Thank you again, for such a riveting evening.” 

~MFMM~

“Phryne,” Margaret followed her daughter out to the curbside, where a black cab sat waiting. “You can’t leave like this. It’s not safe for you to fly alone and unwise to accept a proposal from a man who hasn’t even had the decency to speak to your father first, requesting your hand in marriage! You are not even telling us who it is! We need to confirm suitability.”

Rolling her eyes at her Mother’s obsession with  _ suitability _ , she took a slow breath and handed her carpet bag to the driver. She stood at the open door of the motorcar and looked at her mother in disbelief. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything, least of all Father’s! I,  _ and I alone,  _ will decide who is or who is not  _ suitable  _ for me… I can’t believe how ungrateful you are after I’ve gone to such lengths to bring Father back, to save  _ your _ marriage. To think that I was so naive to be concerned about your wellbeing if he didn’t come home… What a fool I was.” 

“Phryne, m’girl,” Henry stepped forward, simultaneously surprised  _ and _ not at all, at the turn of events. He thought he had a pretty good idea to whom Phryne had promised herself. “Don’t leave like this, not in this state of mind.” 

“My state of mind is as clear as it’s ever been, Father. Much,  _ much clearer, _ even, than when I came up with the crazy scheme to bring you home.” Licking her waxed lips, she truly felt more at ease now that she’d made up her mind. “Goodbye, Father. Goodbye, Mother.” Seeing her mother’s stoic expression, which still bordered on anger, she was determined to remain strong to herself. “I’m sorry I’m such a grave disappointment to you.” When her mother folded her arms across her breasts, clearly not willing to contradict the declaration, Phryne finally truly  _ believed _ what she had always  _ suspected _ . “I guess you really do wish that it had been me, instead of Jane…” 

She didn’t wait long enough for a response, throwing herself into the back seat and demanding that the driver leave immediately. Without looking back, she rode away from her family home in London, more content than she’d ever been at the possibilities that lay ahead. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N   
> Welcome back! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I mean no infringement on these characters, I’m just playing with them for a little while!

The journey had been exhausting, but he could never thank his former AIF brothers enough for their combined efforts in getting him to where he needed to be. It had taken some doing, but Jack had managed to secure enough time off from his post and, since he hadn’t taken any real leave for nearly a decade, had plenty of savings to sustain him for the six month sabbatical. 

“Cheers, mate,” he shook Craig’s hand heartily, clapping him on the opposite shoulder. “You lads have been brilliant.” 

Contacting a fellow-Army veteran he’d kept in touch with through the years, Jack inquired about the possibility of getting a flight out of the Antipodes.  _ (That’s right, Miss Fisher was not the only one with connections). _ The Detective was not overly excited about flying, but he was anxious enough to join Phryne that he didn’t want to wait for the next passenger ship with an available room, only to spend an additional six weeks at sea just to get there… 

The former Australian Flying Corps pilot had quickly networked with a team of other AFC pilots who also knew Jack from their younger days serving with the AIF. Many were still actively flying, though they were scattered between Australia and the Continent working for cargo transport or small for-hire services. The fact that Jack was so well respected made the decisions unquestionably easy; they all wanted to help their old mate. In a coordinated effort worthy of any military-grade evaluation, Jack was ushered leg-by-leg from Australia to Britain in a respectable amount of time, with a few late nights of heavy drinking and reminiscing tossed in for good measure. They had managed to get him from start to finish in just under three weeks. 

Checking the address once more, Jack took a long, slow breath to calm his nerves and mounted the stairs of the impressive manor home just outside of London. Placing his suitcase by his feet, he smoothed his lapels and straightened his hat before knocking. 

“Good afternoon,” he said politely to the elderly gentleman who answered the door. “Is Miss Fisher in?” His long fingers fidgeted with the brim of his hat as he held it, turning it over and over absently. 

“ _ Miss _ Fisher?” The butler queried, wanting to make sure he heard correctly, purposely ignoring the suitcase on the porch. 

“Yes, Sir. Miss  _ Phryne  _ Fisher?” Jack clarified just as a familiar shape came walking down the grand staircase. 

“Jack?” Henry wrinkled his brow. 

“Ah,” Jack smiled. “Baron, good to see you.” He accepted the outstretched hand, shaking it firmly. “I trust your journey was good?”

“I’ve told you, Jack, there’s no need to stand on formalities… Call me Henry,” he smiled at the officer and dismissed Louis with a quick nod. Inviting Jack in as far as the foyer, he answered the younger man’s question. “It was a trip to remember, surely. Though I suspect my daughter was tempted to tip me out of my seat once or twice.” The men chuckled in unison, both thinking of the impulsiveness of the independent lady. 

“Speaking of Miss Fisher,” Jack chuckled and inquired eagerly, anxious to see her. “Is she in?” 

Henry’s face grew serious. “Well, no, Inspector...” He wondered what was going on; he had been certain his daughter flew home to be with Jack, but he was apparently very wrong. “She- she’s gone, Jack. Went back to Melbourne already. A few days ago…”

“Gone?” Jack thought he misheard. “I don’t understand…”

“Well...  _ now _ , neither do I… one evening, she received a message from the telegraph office and promptly announced her pending nuptials…”

“Pending…  _ nuptials… _ ” Jack felt positively ill. “ _ Phryne _ ?” 

“Yes,” Henry felt bad for Jack. Copper or not, he liked the DI. “She said she had to get home to settle her affairs… I assume to make arrangements for her household and such…” 

Jack nearly swayed in place, his gut clenched as he spoke again. “Nuptials…? To whom?” 

“I don’t know, Jack. She said we would receive the formal announcement when it was time. You know she doesn’t do things the traditional way…”

“Of course…” Jack felt like a fool. He thought she had meant it when she asked him to follow. Clearly, it was nothing more than a passing fancy, a jest… a joke even…  _ on him _ . How could he have been so short-sighted? How could she be so cruel…?

“Come in for a drink?” Henry heard his wife coming down the stairs. “Maybe a bite to eat? You’ve come so far, Jack...” 

“No,” he swallowed thickly as he felt the anguish of his heart breaking. “Thank you. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Baron.” He had to get out of there… He had to go somewhere and think…  _ Anywhere… _ Anyplace that wasn’t  _ there _ , where his agony could be witnessed as his world shattered into a million irreparable shards. “Good day, Baron.” 

Jack made a hasty about-face, his mind flooding with images, and memories, and broken dreams. How could he have fallen so hard that he didn’t see this coming? Why should he have ever believed she would truly want him, a lowly officer of the law… and divorced to boot… She’d successfully transformed him from a triple pillar into a strumpet's fool, after all, costumed or not. 

Henry, more confused now than ever before, watched the man he’d considered a perfect counterpart for his daughter turn away. As Margaret joined him at the open door, she watched a retreating form carrying a weathered suitcase.

“Who was that?”

“That was Jack… Here for Phryne.”

“ _ Jack _ ? The policeman?”

“Yes... I guess I was mistaken in my assumption that the telegram had been from him… He had no idea she’d been engaged…” 

“Well, that might be a relief,” the woman said haughtily. “A police officer is hardly an appropriate suitor for Phryne.” 

Henry shook his head and glanced at his wife. “That’s where you’re wrong, Love. He was a perfect match… or so I’d thought…”

~MFMM~ 

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” City South's acting DI, Lawrence Humphrey, gathered the on-duty Constables and Senior Officers. “I have some news to share.” He smiled at the assembly of men. “I’ve just been on the telephone with the Commissioner. He’s ever so pleased with the results coming out of City South these past several weeks, he’s more than impressed with the level of competency he’s witnessed in all of you during this time of transition, and he’s made a very exciting and generous offer.” He grinned a bit wider, standing taller with pride. “Starting immediately, I’ve been given the honor of being appointed the permanent DI for City South. I’m very much looking forward to continuing to work with all of you on an ongoing basis.” 

Hugh Collins stood beside his fellow officers in stunned silence. A few Junior Constables offered their congratulations to their new boss, but he couldn’t stop the flood of questions flooding through his mind as he glanced nervously at his fellow Senior Constables and Detectives. 

“Sir,” he stepped forward. “I don’t understand. Inspector Robinson only put in for six months leave. He will be back in less than five months…” 

Humphrey knew that the young Senior Constable had been very attached to his predecessor, and it was understandable. After all, Robinson had mentored to lad, so he tried to be as straightforward as possible

“As I understand it, Robinson has resigned his position with the Victoria Constabulary.” He shrugged a small measure. “Perhaps he found a compelling reason to stay in Britain. I understand he did leave in haste, following the departure of the infamous Lady Detective I’ve heard so much about…”

Hugh shook his head in disbelief, trying to make sense of it all. Before he could respond, however, a Junior Officer beckoned their new DI, needing assistance with a complicated matter. Turning back towards the counter, Hugh was startled to hear the recognizable cadence of heels making their way through the open front door. 

“Hello, Hugh!” Her familiar sing-song tone rang out as she launched excitedly. “You’re looking ever so smart in your stripes… every time I see you, they seem to suit you more and more.” Whisking open the half door before he could reply, it was clear where she was headed. “Is he in?” She asked without the intent to wait for a response. 

Snapping out of his shock, Hugh rushed forward. “No, Miss. Wait...” He didn’t need to physically stop her, however, as her keen eye for attention spotted a change on the office door, one which an anonymous cleaner was just polishing.  _ Det. Inspector L. Humphrey _ was emblazoned across the frosted glass. 

At that precise moment, the front doors to the station burst open again, this time permitting entrance to a modestly dressed young woman. To her chest, she clutched a wrinkled envelope in her gloved hand. 

“Hugh!” She looked frantic upon entrance. 

He spun on his heel. “Dottie!”

“ _ Miss _ ?” Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she stopped in her tracks. 

“Dot!” Phryne gushed, smiling despite the temporary bafflement. 

“Oh, dear…” Dorothy’s hand fell to her side, still fisting the letter that had been personally delivered earlier that morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N   
> Uh-oh… Now no one knows what’s going on!
> 
> I’d love to hear from you!  
> peace and love, my friends,   
> ~jazzy


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N   
> Welcome back! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Hey, guess what? I still own nothing - just this story line!

Huddling close, the three were awkwardly reacquainted. 

Dot spoke to her husband. “I wouldn’t have opened the letter if it hadn't been co-addressed to me,” she explained as Hugh studied the envelope that was now in his hands. The writing was familiar - he’d been deciphering it for a few years. “As you’ll see when you read it, however, it’s clearly intended more for you.” 

“What’s happening?” Phryne leaned close, looking down at the item her former maid relinquished to her husband. Also familiar with the poor penmanship of a certain DI, who was inconveniently absent from the station, she glanced at her friend. “Where did that come from? What’s going on?” Her eyes swiveled to Hugh as she gestured towards the new lettering on Jack’s office door. “And  _ who  _ is L. Humphrey?”

Unable to speak, Hugh pulled the letter from its confines and started to read it, knowing that Miss Fisher was also reading it over his shoulder. 

_ Hugh,  _

_ I trust this letter finds you well, and I hope the same for Mrs. Collins. I am writing to give you forewarning of some changes you and the lads will undoubtedly learn about in short order, hopefully this letter will reach you before the news does; please feel free to  _ _ discreetly _ _ let those closest to you know. In an effort to bypass the painfully slow Royal Mail Steamers, I dispatched this note with a friend flying home from London. I would have liked to tell you face to face, but given our current distant proximity, that is not an option.  _

_ I arrived in London in healthy order and in respectable time; I have my former military mates to credit for the cooperation and speedy assistance and I must admit, they showed me a right good time along the way. Hopefully you had the opportunity to meet Harry, my best mate from the war and one of the finest pilots I’ve ever had the honor of knowing; he promised to deliver the letter to you at Wardlow immediately upon returning. If he managed to gain your attention with a story or two, I’ll apologize now and implore you to not believe a word he said, for he is prone to exaggeration when it comes to his retelling of events and adventures we’ve shared.  _

_ But, I digress.  _

_ As I indicated during my last night at the Station, I was meant to meet Miss Fisher during her jaunts along the English countryside and beyond, as she had invited me. I fear, however, that either my departure was not swift enough or, perhaps more likely, the invitation was made in jest and, due to my own disillusionment, I failed to recognize its true intent.  _

_ I’ve been informed that Miss Fisher is now engaged, no doubt to a noble man of Title, and has since set out in return to Melbourne, to arrange for the settlement of her affairs, before, presumably, returning to the continent. To say I was surprised would be a grave understatement. Her happiness, however, is most important to me, above even my own, so I wish her no ill will; I feel only disappointment for my own loss of what might have been. Perhaps you would be so good as to act surprised when she reveals the truth of her return - I would hate to be the ruin of her good news.  _

_ To cut to the chase, you and the other lads will soon learn that I’ve tendered my resignation from the Victoria Constabulary. Initially, I was satisfied with the six months of leave I had negotiated, looking forward to spending time traveling with Miss Fisher. Given the new turn of events, however, I’ve begun to reevaluate my life.  _

_ I’ve no familial ties left in the Antipodes, and since I have virtually nothing holding me back, I’ve decided to travel on my own, to see places that I’ve always wanted to see, locales I’ve only read about, sights I’d hoped to share with Miss Fisher, but at which I will now find my own entertainment. _

_ As I do not know when, or if, I’ll be returning to Melbourne for any length of permanence, you will find, enclosed, a legal document I’ve recently had drawn up. If you find it agreeable, you need only to sign and return it to my solicitor, whose contact details are included. I would like to offer my home to you and Dorothy, free of rent, for however long you need it. I know you’ve been staying at Wardlow while Miss Fisher has been traveling, in an effort to build your savings for a home of your own. If, however, you would like the privacy necessary in a new marriage, or if her settling of affairs finds you without a place to stay, I would be honored to extend this offer. If you’d care for and respect the property, treat it as you would your own, I’m happy to know it’s in the safekeeping of two of the kindest, most dependable people I’ve ever had the pleasure of calling my friends. It’s a modest, quiet neighborhood, and while the house is not a mansion, there is plenty of room to begin a family, if that is in your future plans.  _

_ If you’re not interested, not to worry, please do not feel obligated in any way. I can arrange to have the house set to sell; or if you would like to stay there for a while, until you can afford your dream home, you need not feel bad about moving in and then back out again when it suits you. I would only ask that you let my solicitor know so he can continue making arrangements. _

_ Though she is no longer beholden to me through any legal binds, Rosie has been kind enough to agree to pack my personal belongings and see that they are moved to storage until such time that I, at the very least, make it back to see to their disposal or disbursement. If you would like to make use of any of the furniture, simply let her know as I’ve already granted my permission that you be allowed to benefit from anything necessary.  _

_ Hugh, I want you to know that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed working with you, mentoring you and watching you mature as a man and grow as a Constable. You haven’t asked my opinion, but I’ll give it anyway. I’ve no doubt that you will, one day, promote up the Constabulary ladder until you lead your own substation as a Senior DI. You’ve a good intuition, let that lead your hand. Although you’ve not sought my counseling outright, I will be bold enough to share some advice that was once offered by my father, and something extra, that I learned the hard way.  _

_ Never sacrifice your integrity, Hugh. Do not allow anyone to alter or discredit your conscience. Do not allow the job to rule your entire existence; we work to live, we do not live to work. I encourage you to exercise caution against closing yourself off or burying your feelings from your bride - lack of communication leads to misunderstandings, which may, in turn, negatively affect your marital relationship. You and Dot are young, and anyone can see how in love you are with one another - treasure your moments together and the years will take care of themselves.  _

_ I apologize for the lengthy nature of this letter, but there was so much I wanted to say that it could not be helped. I do not know yet, where I will next find myself, I have some planning to do. My solicitor will ultimately know how to reach me, though it may not be straight away.  _

_ I wish you only the best in your career, Hugh, and I wish all the happiness in the world to you and Dorothy as you continue in your adventure of marriage. Please give her my very best. _

_ Fondest Regards,  _

_ Jack Robinson  _

Phryne reached around Hugh’s arm and grabbed the letter from his fingers, certain she was reading it wrong. Perhaps the angle at which she was standing made his atrocious penmanship even more difficult to de-code. As she re-read the letter, the newlyweds looked at the second enclosure. 

A legal agreement… an offer to live in a lovely home, just the two of them, rent free while they built on their savings. His boss, his mentor and idol, had resigned in the face of what would have been a heartbreaking situation. Out of the heartache that the Inspector was experiencing, he found it in himself to make them an offer that could prove to be exactly what they needed. They looked at each other wide-eyed, listening to the murmurings from Miss Fisher, but fully absorbed in their own shocked amazement. 

When the Lady Detective lowered the letter with an audible sigh, Dorothy snapped out of her own musings. Sharing a wordless glance with her husband, she and Hugh agreed to discuss their offer later, after he was off duty. Dot turned to her former employer. 

“I guess… Congratulations, Miss…?” She couldn't imagine who the independent woman had finally agreed to marry, but knew she would find out soon enough. “You should have sent word you were coming home, Miss, we could have prepared and hosted a gathering.” 

Phryne lifted her eyes to her young assistant. “I did send word, Dot. I sent a telegram... to Jack…” 

“When?” 

“Sixteen days ago. I only just landed this morning, and came straight here...” Phryne had flown away from England the morning after sending word to Jack and subsequently breaking the news to her family, traveling almost to the point of exhaustion. She made the solo trip in near record time, only to be met with the unwelcome news that Jack was, in fact, in the same city from which she’d just fled. 

“Sixteen days ago, Miss Fisher? He had already gone by then, Miss…” Hugh eyed her carefully, keeping his voice low, and attempting to keep at bay, any trace of accusation, though he felt bitter on behalf of the man who had always treated him like family. “He was quite eager to reach London, looking forward to surprising you… I don’t imagine the Inspector was expecting you to become engaged... so quickly...or...  _ at all _ …”

“Hugh!” Dorothy hissed angrily at his disrespect. 

His eyes flared at her. “It’s true, isn’t it? He spent  _ days  _ planning this journey, negotiated leave time, arranged for all his cases to be transitioned… He was looking forward to the adventure, he thought....” Hugh stopped talking, loathe to reveal any of the confessions the Inspector had confided to him about his feelings towards the Lady Detective. 

Phryne shook her head and handed the letter back to Hugh. “I am  _ not  _ engaged, Hugh. I never was.” 

“Then why … How…” Dorothy’s brow wrinkled in incomprehension. She had almost forgotten how much she actually enjoyed the whirlwind sensation that surrounded her Miss on a daily basis, despite the confusion that was often left in her wake. 

Miss Fisher huffed. “Obviously, my  _ father  _ passed on information about which he knew  _ nothing _ !” 

Hugh shook his head. “Why would your father lie to the Inspector, Miss?” 

She looked at Dot, completely ignoring the goings on around her. “I was in a rush to come home… I missed being  _ home _ , with my friends and family  _ here _ … I missed Jack…” She looked down, where her fingers twisted together in an uncharacteristic display of anxiety. “I may have... led my parents to believe I had someone waiting here for me… someone to whom I had promised myself…”

“But you always said you’d never marry… You don’t even want to commit yourself to one man. You’ve always said that… Didn’t they question your declaration?” 

Phryne heard the obvious confusion in Dot’s voice, but felt worse about the actual words…It’s true, Phryne always said she wouldn’t commit herself ever again… but it sounded so cold, so heartless when Dot repeated her own words back to her. 

_ People change _ , she thought silently.  _ Beliefs change… People are, however unintentionally, influenced by those around them and cannot help but to have their actions triggered by that influence... _ She said none of this, however; she just looked at her companion. “My parents clearly don’t know me well... Now, I suspect Father’s revelation has convinced Jack that he doesn't know me either...”

She reached out and wordlessly asked to see the legal agreement, which Hugh hesitated about handing over. 

“I just want Jack’s solicitor’s information. I need to reach him.  _ Urgently _ .” She looked between Dot and Hugh, smiling softly. “His offer is very generous. It would be a lovely place for you to stay while you decide where you really want to settle.” She reached out and palmed Dorothy’s cheek. “It will allow you to have a sense of having your own home, rather than staying at Wardlow, but please know that you are always welcome at my home. I will support your decision, no matter where you live.”

“But would you not miss me in the evenings for your baths, Miss? Or if you come home late from dancing and need help with your dress?” 

Phryne smiled warmly. “I will of course miss you, Dot, but I assure you, I will manage just fine. And the Inspector’s home is not so far from Wardlow that you can’t still come over; even if you are no longer working with me, you are still welcome to visit anytime, day or night.” 

“Oh, if you’re back, Miss, I want to work for you again,” she assured her employer. “I’ve only been writing the Agony Aunt column while you’ve been gone to give us some extra money. But I made it perfectly clear that it was a temporary assignment when I accepted the offer.” 

Phryne smiled. “You’re brilliant,” she hugged Dot, the first hug since she stumbled into City South Station nearly three-quarters of an hour before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N  
> Oh my, Phryne’s impulsive excuse to her parents has come to haunt her… What will happen? 
> 
> I’d love to hear from you!
> 
> peace and love, my friends,   
> ~jazzy


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> Thanks for coming back for our next installment! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: As always, I do not own anything related to MFMM or its characters. The only thing that’s mine here is the story!

Phryne woke early the following morning, early enough that her household was shocked to see her dressed and ready for the day while they were still eating their breakfasts. Having enjoyed a fortifying start to her day, she set out to complete an extensive list of goals, grateful to be back behind the wheel of her Hispano Suiza with her maid-turned-assistant by her side. 

Taking a deep breath before knocking on the door with a confidence she didn’t have, she glanced sideways at Dot and pasted on a smile. 

“Miss Fisher…” The greeting, when the door opened, was one of surprise, but undoubtedly guarded and more importantly,  _ unwelcome _ . The chilled gaze shifted to the younger woman. “Mrs. Collins.” 

“Good morning, Miss Sanderson.” Phryne nodded politely. “I’m sorry if we’re disturbing you, but I wondered if I might have a few minutes of your time?” 

Rosie looked at the women, not responding immediately. It’s true that she and Jack had not been able to reconcile their differences, but that didn’t mean she didn't maintain fond feelings for her former husband. For all his faults, he was still a good, hard-working man, and the woman standing at her door had disrespected him, leading him astray and then breaking his heart. For that, she felt a certain animosity for the socialite. 

Phryne suspected she knew why Rosie was hesitant and motioned towards Dot. “I will understand if you do not wish to speak with me, Rosie - Miss Sanderson,” she corrected herself under the circumstances. “If you would prefer, Mrs. Collins is perfectly aware of what I’ve come to discuss with you, perhaps you would speak to her in my place?” 

Rosie’s steely eyes once more shifted between the women and she stepped back, opening her door wider. “You’re both welcome to come into the parlor,” she motioned to the first room off the foyer. 

“Thank you so much,” Phryne smiled in relief, leading the way into the elegantly appointed room. 

“Would you care for tea?” Rosie offered stiffly, inviting them to sit on the chairs opposite her couch. 

“That would be lovely, thank you.” Phryne was on her best behavior, putting into action all of her social etiquette skills. 

“Beatrice?” Rosie called out and waited for the young girl to appear in the doorway. “Tea for three, please.”

Dot pushed to her feet immediately, smiling warmly. “I’ll help.” She didn’t give anyone a chance to object, following Beatrice out of the room without so much as a backwards glance. 

Swiveling her eyes back to her unwanted guest, Rosie squared her shoulders. “I understand congratulations are in order, Miss Fisher… So,” she tilted her head slightly, “congratulations on your engagement.” 

Phryne shook her head and sat forward. “Actually, no, Miss Sanderson, there has been a terrible misunderstanding.” 

Rosie’s brow creased. “In what way?” 

By the time Dorothy and Beatrice returned to the parlor, the tension in the room had all but dissolved. 

“So, you see,” Phryne was saying. “I had no idea that Jack had already left Melbourne. I hadn’t received word from him, so assumed that it was taking longer than expected for him to arrange his leave from the Constabulary. I’d researched the steamer schedules, never imagining that he would be flying, and I was confident I’d be home well in advance of any departure he may have arranged.” 

“Do you know how to reach him?” Rosie sat forward, accepting the teacup from Beatrice as Phryne accepted hers from Dot. 

Phryne shook her head. “Yesterday, I telephoned and left word at his solicitor’s office with my contact details. If I don’t hear back from him by this afternoon, I plan to stop by his office. I also sent telegrams to my Father last night and again first thing this morning, charging him with the task of searching the city for where Jack might be staying. I plan to place a person-to-person telephone call through to my parents this afternoon. I wish I could physically be there to wrap my fingers around my father’s neck and strangle him...” 

Rosie sipped her tea, realizing that she should not have been so cold to her guests when they arrived. “I’m not sure how I can help, Miss Fisher. The only contact I’ve had from Jack was a pair of telegrams and a single letter, delivered yesterday by an old chum from the war. The first advised me that his trip to England had been for naught and asking if I would assist in a personal matter to help him long distance. Upon my responding message, he replied that he needed someone to help pack his personal belongings and arrange a time to have them moved into storage until he could come back. It’s my understanding that he is contemplating selling the bungalow, unless Constable and Mrs. Collins are interested in staying there in the interim.” 

Dorothy piped up instantly, now more comfortable with the atmosphere in the room. “Oh, the offer is so generous, and so  _ very  _ appreciated. Hugh and I are happy to stay there and watch over the Inspector’s home until such time that this whole debacle has been straightened out.” 

Rosie nodded, a wistful smile tugging her lips. “It is a lovely home, Mrs. Collins. I hope that you and Constable Collins will be happy staying there.” 

Dorothy smiled, a true expression of gratitude. “Thank you. I am sure we will. And we will take good care of it. I know how the Inspector loves his garden, I’ll try my best to do him proud.” 

Rosie had once held high hopes for their lives in that home. It was the home that Jack had bought in anticipation of their engagement, and as such, she had not fought for the home in their divorce proceedings. She’d dreamed of raising a family in the cozy bungalow; two children, she had always wanted, but it was never meant to be. The room that she had imagined as a children’s room had eventually become Jack’s study, his hideaway, and ultimately his retreat when he could no longer face the shadows that had befallen their marriage. The young woman sitting opposite her now was so vibrant, so clearly in love when she spoke of her happiness, she hoped that the humble house would give the newlyweds all that it hadn’t been able to give her own marriage. 

“I’m sure you will do quite well, Mrs. Collins. You seem to be a woman of many talents.” 

Phryne beamed at her assistant. The young, frightened maid who’d once been accused of murder was nowhere in sight now, replaced by the brave, intelligent bride who exuded confidence in her homemaking abilities. 

Bringing the conversation back around to her original intent, Phryne placed her cup back on the table. “Miss Sanderson,”

“ _ Rosie _ , please,” she corrected her guest with a knowing smile, back on more comfortable ground.

“LIkewise,” Phryne winked, “ _ again. _ ” She nodded. “Rosie, I would like to go to Jack’s house and have a look around. I know you’re planning to pack his belongings, but I thought that I might find a clue or, perhaps, a hint of where he might want to go while he is across the ocean. In a letter he sent to Hugh and Dot, he mentioned plans to continue his travels, to see the places he’s only read about, to visit sights he’s dreamed of. I thought,” she shrugged, “short of wandering aimlessly around Europe with no idea as to possible destinations, I might find something that will help.” 

Rosie considered the request. She wasn’t sure how Jack would feel about the Lady Detective snooping through his home. Though, if she didn’t allow it, she had little doubt that said Lady Detective would end up in the home anyway, donning an often-discussed black break-and-enter-costume later that night. If she were to allow entrance while she was there, she could at least keep an eye on her former husband’s personal effects, to ensure his privacy is respected as much as possible. Besides, knowing the truth now, and understanding that the Honorable Phryne Fisher really  _ did  _ care for him, she was confident that Jack would approve of granting access for an unofficial investigation. 

With a nod of acquiescence, she placed her teacup down. “Of course, Phryne. I was planning to go tomorrow, as I had some business to attend to today. However, I suspect you’d like to get started as soon as possible, so that you can make your own plans.”

“I don’t mean to be an imposition… But time  _ is  _ of the essence.” 

“Not an imposition at all,” Rosie countered. “If you would give me a few minutes, I will make arrangements to do my business tomorrow, and then we can go to Jack’s and find your clues.” 

~MFMM~

The three ladies moved through Jack’s home methodically. Dot was familiarizing herself with the layout of what would be her home in a short time while Rosie was eyeing up what would need to be stored, calculating how many crates she would need. She made a few suggestions to Dorothy about the possible placement of furniture pieces she indicated they might need, and Phryne’s keen eyes were scanning for clues to the never-ending-source-of-mystery that was her partner. 

The Lady Detective had only been to Jack’s home once, and she hadn’t made it past the foyer. She felt odd about seeing the rest of the house in the company of Jack’s former wife, but she was wise enough to recognize a simple truth. If she and Rosie had met under different circumstances, if neither had been involved with Jack on varying levels, they might have been fast friends. Both women were strong on different playing fields, independent and intelligent. Their upbringings may have differed drastically, but nevertheless, they would most likely have been kindred spirits with relative ease in a different time, in a different place. 

She perused Jack’s bookshelves, unsurprised by the sheer number of publications jamming the tiers. There was no wonder why the man was a constant surprise, his range of literary selections was exceedingly wide – he could open his own bookshoppe  _ and  _ do very well, she was certain. 

Finding a locked wooden box tucked in amongst the voluminous tomes, she pulled it close, wondering in earnest what he might consider precious enough to secure in such a way. With a glance over her shoulder, she confirmed that she was alone in the room and reached into her decolletage, extracting her trusty lock pick. It was an easy mechanism to breach and in mere moments, she was opening the lid, feeling only a little guilty. 

With a sudden intake of breath, she eyed the contents, pulling them out slowly. She found herself holding the arrest photos that Hugh had taken on Jack’s first failed attempt to arrest her, and she chuckled aloud at the memory. That was the first time she had ever found herself attracted to a man simply because of the way he  _ ate  _ – the gentle, deep hum that erupted from his chest as he savored Mr. Butler’s gratin, the expression when he closed his eyes while tasting the peach tart – it should be illegal to enjoy food in the way that Jack enjoyed food… She grinned, understanding that if he had kept the photos, they obviously meant something to him. 

Looking further into the box, her fingers wrapped around a familiar cylinder that she recognized immediately as camera film. Specifically, it was the undeveloped film cartridge that she had pocketed from Frederick Burns after gaining the answers she needed from him. She had turned it in as evidence as was expected from a Special Constable of the Victoria Police, but she’d confessed to a touch of anxiety about it falling into the wrong hands. While she was not a shy woman, such photographs could cause quite a stir if revealed to the wrong people. Jack would have risked his career by removing it from the evidence locker, but he did it anyway… He kept it in order to protect her, was noble enough to’ve never developed it, yet couldn’t bring himself to destroy it. 

There were other photos as well, of people she did not recognize, but whom she suspected were his family. She took just a moment to glance through the random images, but a piece of paper slipped out from between two pictures, fluttering to the floor. Squatting down to pick it up, she froze, realizing it was a receipt from the jeweler in town. Her jaw grew slack as she read the receipt and thought back to a hushed conversation. 

_ “We found something when we raided Mary’s health van.”  _

_ “Am I the recipient of stolen goods?”  _

_ “If the owner comes forward, we’ll send them your way.”  _

_ “They can fight me for it.”  _

She knew an officer’s salary was not as high as it should be, but as she stared at the sale date, the description and the price, she realized that he didn’t  _ just happen _ to find a pin reminiscent of the swallow pin she's described, he went in search of one... And gifted it to her in such a way that he knew she would never reject it.

She placed everything carefully back into place and made the decision that she would take it with her for safe-keeping. The stunned detective clutched it carefully against her body as she continued to look through Jack’s quiet home, thoughts swirling around in the back of her mind, amazed at how long he’d apparently carried feelings for her. 

She could hear Rosie and Dorothy talking in another room. Their apparent ease with one another was somewhat surprising, but it gave her a feeling of calm beneath the growing sense of anxiety at the idea that she might never find Jack. She’d often teased him about his many mysteries, but the truth was, outside of their working relationship, she had very few glimpses into Jack’s personal life. This lack of knowledge would prove to be a challenge in her endeavor to right the wrong that her father had inflicted. 

At the opposite end of the room, the Detective Inspector had an impressive collection of sheet music piled high on his upright piano, and a surprising array of phonograph records spanning a variety of genres. She moved across to the final bookshelf, still not knowing exactly what she was looking for… 

There were vacant spaces in a few shelves, from which Phryne suspected Jack had selected reading material for his trip, and she studied the surrounding topics. His filing system appeared to be by subject as opposed to author, and she started to doubt the possibility of determining where he may be interested in visiting based solely on his missing books. 

There appeared to be a volume of Shakespeare missing – no surprise there – and if she was a betting woman, she’d place her money on  **Antony and Cleopatra** being in his luggage. A gap between two well-read Zane Gray novels told her he’d likely also taken a bit of light reading along for the ride, as well as a volume from his poetry section, though she wouldn’t be able to be more specific, as most were mixed collections. Being drawn to the bottom row, she squatted and studied what appeared to be a reference section. Running her fingers along the spine of each book, she spoke aloud, identifying subjects of horticulture, police studies and… finally  _ Geography!  _

_ “This is it _ ,” she exclaimed to no one. There were multiple gaps, albeit thin ones, indicating that whatever he’d taken were most likely compact travel guides. Growing frustrated at her inability to estimate what he may have selected, her pale blues fell on a section containing multiple volumes of the same topic. Impatiently, she pulled one from its place and stared at the cover, reprimanding herself for not thinking of it sooner. 

“Miss?” Dot spoke up behind her. “Did you say something?” 

Suddenly, she was flanked by the other ladies as she held her find. “ _ Here _ ! This is the clue, I’m  _ sure  _ of it!” 

Dorothy examined the relatively large volume. “The Tour de France, Miss?”

“Brilliant,” Rosie praised the Lady Detective’s intuition.

Phryne’s face brightened. “When I was in England, I read an advert for a series of Tour de France Amateur Runs.” She bit her lower lip. “I can’t recall the dates, though...”

“That should be easy enough to find out,” Rosie assured her. “Surely if Jack is close enough to participate, he will…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N 
> 
> I’d love to hear what you think!   
> Thanks for reading!   
> peace and love, my friends,   
> ~jazzy


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N   
> Hi there and welcome back!   
> I hope this chapter is not too short, it just felt right… 
> 
> Disclaimer: Nope, they still aren’t mine, the only thing I can claim is the story idea!

“I need to see Group Captain Compton,” she told the gate guard. “Urgently.” 

“Are you expected, madam?” The junior officer, not much older than a cadet, eyed the Hispano Suiza carefully – it’s not every day that a beautiful woman pulled up to the gate in a car like that. 

“No, but please, call him. Tell him the Honorable Phryne Fisher is here to see him.” 

Sensing a level of command from the civilian, he nodded. “Please wait here.” 

A short while later, she was pulling up to the parking space she’d occupied less than a year prior and eyeing the man who had come to greet her. 

“Phryne! You are quite possibly the last person on earth I’d expect on an early morning surprise visit.” He was pleasant, but knew the woman well enough to recognize the determined look on her face, telling him she was about to demand something from him. 

“Lyle,” she kept calm, exchanging pleasantries before getting down to business. “You’re looking well.” 

“I’m keeping busy, that’s for sure,” he ushered her into his office. “Can I call for some tea?” 

“No, thank you. I haven’t the time, really.” She sat down and folded her hands on her lap. “I know when we last parted, it was not, perhaps, on the best of terms.” 

He shrugged, knowing that she’d had sound reasons for being angry with him. “Water under the bridge and all that…” 

“I’m glad to hear you say it,” she continued. “I am in desperate need for help.” 

“Are you in trouble? What’s wrong?” He never thought he’d hear Phryne Fisher start a conversation with such a declaration. 

“Not trouble, per se, but I need help getting to France.  _ Quickly _ .” 

He frowned. “I’m not sure how I can really help, Phryne.” 

“You  _ know _ how you can help. I  _ could  _ fly there on my own... I’ve just arrived home from England two days ago, after flying solo in my Gypsy Moth...” 

“You flew a Moth on your own from England!? Phryne, are you crazy?” 

“I flew it from here to England and then back again, yes. And no, I’m not crazy. She held up like a charm; strong and true. I  _ don’t  _ think, however, it’s wise to take her back out, the last leg was a little rough.” 

“The RAAF doesn’t loan planes, Phryne,” he deadpanned. 

“I don’t want a loan, Lyle. I need to get to France urgently. Faster than I could do on my own. I need a second pilot with whom I can rotate enroute  _ and  _ a faster plane than my own.” When she saw him immediately start to reject the notion, she raised her hand. “I know, for a fact, that the RAAF has a regular route between the Antipodes and the Continent. I’m just asking to hop the flight. I’ll pay my way, I’ll pay for fuel.” 

“Phryne, I can’t just allow civilians to  _ hop onto _ military-scheduled flights! That’s not how this works, and you know it!”  _ Impossible woman!  _ “What’s in France that you need to get to so urgently?” 

She hesitated. Lyle and Jack had disliked and distrusted each other immediately upon meeting. It was a sentiment that neither seemed to overcome by the end of their case, but she couldn’t let that stop her from enlisting the assistance she knew he could offer. “It’s not a  _ what _ , exactly, it’s more of a  _ who… _ ” 

“Oh, god, don’t tell me your Father has gotten himself into legal trouble again?” He shook his head. “You  _ can’t  _ keep bailing him out of trouble,  _ Phryne _ .”

Rolling her eyes, she stopped him. “It’s not Father… It’s...  _ Jack _ .” 

He stared at her for a split second, certain he wasn’t hearing her right. “Jack…” 

She nodded wordlessly. 

“ _ Jack _ -Jack? Your  _ too-much-ballast _ -Jack?” 

She nodded again. He was reacting a little better than she’d expected. 

The Group Captain was having trouble wrapping his head around their interaction. Speaking slowly, he clarified, making sure he wasn’t having a stroke. “ _ You _ came to  _ me,  _ seeking assistance in getting to France, because  _ Jack  _ is there?” 

“Yes,” she said, continuing quickly. “I’m so glad you understand. I was thinking –” 

“ _ No _ , Phryne,” he interrupted, pushing to his feet. “I  _ don’t  _ understand. I can’t believe your nerve! You expect  _ me  _ to fly you to  _ him _ ? He wanted to _ lock me up! _ You interrupted  _ our  _ time together, to run to  _ him _ !”

“He was doing his  _ job _ ! And you were obstructing him!” She, too, rose from her seat, not about to cower to him. “Lyle, you and I both know that what we had years ago  _ belongs  _ in the past. We can  _ never  _ recapture that time, nor  _ should  _ we!” She felt a knot form in her stomach. “Can you help me get to France or not? If you can’t, I’ll take my chances with the Moth, but I had  _ hoped  _ you were mature enough to move past our personal differences.”

Lyle, exhaled sharply, his hands on his hips as he turned his back to her and studied a map on the wall. When the silence continued, Phryne took that as her answer, and she picked up her purse. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Group Captain. I’ll see myself out.” Turning away, she stepped towards the door, already mentally calculating the time it was going to take for the necessary repairs to be completed on her plane, and thus planning her flight schedule. 

“Can you be ready to leave by five-thirty tomorrow morning?”

Spinning in surprise, she studied his back, seeing the obvious tension in his shoulders. “Yes,” she breathed in response. “I’ll be here early.” She saw him nod, his back still turned. “Thank you, Lyle,” she said quietly, slipping from the office, her quick mind now plotting new plans. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N   
> Thanks for reading!   
> I’d love to hear what you think!  
> peace and love, my friends,   
> ~jazzy


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N  
> Welcome back! 
> 
> Disclaimer:   
> They still aren’t mine…. Though I’ll be honest here, I wouldn’t mind if Jack was mine. LOL

Phryne worked her way through throngs of cyclists, her watchful eyes sweeping across a sea of faces in hopes of spotting the one that visited most nights in her dreams. There were more cycling enthusiasts than she’d anticipated and she walked quickly towards the check-in station in the far distance. The amateur race on the Western Coast of France had begun three days earlier, so there was no way for Phryne to know where, along the route, Jack might be,  _ if _ he was even racing... And if he  _ had _ indeed entered the race, there was no telling yet if this was the segment that he’d chosen to enter. 

Having landed in Northern France only a couple days prior, this would be the third check-point at which she inquired about Jack. So far, no one had noticed an Austalian cyclist traveling on his own. She hoped for success here, because otherwise she would have to wait until the following day before her hired driver was available to continue further. Of course, if she didn’t have her desired success, she wasn’t even sure where her next destination would be, so she might well need that additional day to work out a new plan. 

With a warm smile, she placed her carpet travel bag at her feet and greeted the young man behind the table. 

“Pardon me, I wonder if you might help,” she said quietly, her French impeccable, coming back to her as if she’d spoken it all her life. When the man nodded in greeting, she extracted a copy of Jack’s photograph,  _ pilfered from his personnel record without anyone noticing _ , and held it out. “Can you tell me of this gentleman, Jack Robinson, from Australia, has checked in here for the race?” 

The man eyed the photo, not recognizing the name, and shook his head. “I do not recall assisting him at check-in, mademoiselle, but I will review the book for you.” 

“I would be most grateful. It’s very urgent that I locate his whereabouts.” 

As the registrar flipped through a large book, he spoke to Phryne, breaking into heavily-accented English. “Your French is very fine, mademoiselle. You are from elsewhere, no?” 

“Yes,” she answered, also on English. “Like Monsieur Robinson, I am Australian. I did, however, live in France for a short while... In 1918...”

He nodded, wondering if the stranger was here following Armistice Day. The quiet, measured tone in her response hinted that her time in France may not have necessarily been a happy time. Just as he was reading down the ledger in the ‘R’ section of the registry book, he was approached by a woman carrying a lunch pail. After he explained Miss Fisher’s request, the fair-haired woman turned to Phryne, her hand extended towards the photograph. 

“May I?” She smiled, speaking the Queen’s English without pause. “Anton says you’re from Australia, and in search of an Australian cyclist? I have been assisting in registrations these past several days. I may be able to help.” 

Phryne surrendered the image and smiled. “You, too, are from elsewhere. If I’m not mistaken, I’d wager Oxfordshire, perhaps?”

A bright smile spread across the stranger's face. “Yes, as a matter of fact! How did you know?” 

Phryne shrugged one shoulder and grinned. “It’s the lovely lilt in your voice. I knew a girl once from there… many years ago, when I was in school...” When the younger woman raised her brows in surprise, she continued. “My family moved when I was young.” She extended her hand. “Phryne Fisher.”

“Lilly Burke,” she greeted the visitor in return. “I recognize your friend,” she handed the photo back. “He checked-in through here at the end of day one. I recall because he was ever so nice.” Her cheeks flushed and Phryne suspected it was not from the heat – her Inspector had that effect on women, even if the man, himself, didn’t realize it. “He was the only man I registered that day who was not from France.” She chuckled in memory of the polite, but  _ hungry  _ foreigner. “He was ever so keen for a full meal after a day of riding, which in itself is not that unusual for riders, but it was the way he so thoroughly enjoyed the meal he’d been served in the pub that made him memorable.” She smiled, noticing the knowing expression in Phryne’s eyes. “The following morning he was eager to keep pace with the first group, and left at the crack of dawn.” 

“First group?” Phryne didn’t understand, but she could barely contain her relief at knowing Jack had been here. “What does that mean?” 

Anton took his place at the table again, holding the book open with one hand as he pulled out a map with the other. “The racers were required to divide into groups, there are so many registered this year in hopes of qualifying for the official race. If he made it here at the end of Day One, he would have started here,” he pointed to a map, to one of the official starting points. Turning the book so Phryne could read, he pointed to a line item. “Your friend left here two days ago.” 

“Two days ago…?” Phryne’s excitement evaporated, suspecting she’d never know where to look for Jack next… Besides, she couldn’t set out to search for him until the following afternoon, when her driver returned… that would give Jack a three day head start. 

“Yes,” Lilly answered, reading the map. “Do not fear, however, we can help you find your friend. By now, he should be somewhere south of here,” she pointed to a small village on the map, “and north of here, so long as he kept pace with the group.” Sensing that Phryne was trying to calculate her next step, Lilly came through with a good plan. “You are driving, madam? We can show you the route,” she motioned to the map. 

“No.” Phryne was deflated, studying the map for anything that looked familiar. “I was unable to secure a car for my own use, so I hired a driver. He brought me here, but he was not able to wait… He will return tomorrow if I send word...” 

“Not to worry, then.” Anton answered this time, receiving a silent cue from his sweetheart, whose intuition he always trusted. “Our driver will be taking supplies to a rendezvous point, which is here,” he indicated to a small village on the map. “Most cyclists will reach this point by evening, or possibly tomorrow, and will be peckish and thirsty. We provide additional refreshment in small villages, as the local inns often do not stock ample protein and veg for the additional mouths. Cyclists often choose to stay the night before continuing.” He saw bright blue eyes flit up to meet his. “Would you be amenable to a ride with the supplies mobile?” 

~MFMM~ 

The journey was uneventful and the driver, Pierre, was pleasant. In his younger days, he had taken part in a number of bicycle races in hopes of one day being successful enough to qualify for and participate in the Tour de France. Like so many young men, though, the war had thwarted his dreams, and by the time it was over, he came home minus one arm and blind in one eye. He wasn’t bitter, however, as he had met the love of his life in a field hospital, and following Armistice Day, they’d found one another again and quickly married. They were proud parents of two children with another on the way, so he viewed his physical impairments as fortunate catalyst, and was happy to work in deliveries. 

Spotting a billow of smoke in the distance, Pierre’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “No good sign,” he said, in broken English. 

“Definitely not a good sign,” she agreed, sitting forward in her seat and peering out the windshield. “It doesn’t look far away…”

He shook his head. “Not far… is our stop.” 

Whipping her head around to look at him, her eyes bulged. “ _ That _ is our destination?” 

“Yes,” he slipped into French as his internal alarms started ringing, making it difficult to concentrate on translating. “That is the only village along this road for many, many kilometers. That is the midway point for this leg of the amateur race.”

~MFMM~ 

Pulling into the tiny village, Pierre maneuvered the delivery truck through crowds of people. An emergency vehicle that would prove to be the town’s sole fire truck sat before a group of burning buildings, the fire brigade working to extinguish the flame-engulfed structures. Two other vehicles were parked nearby, both bearing the international symbol for first aid. 

Phryne looked at Pierre as he parked the truck and she nodded towards the medical trucks. Speaking in French, her field hospital skills came back to her without conscious effort, she started to slide from her seat. 

“I am going to offer my help. I have first aid experience.” 

He replied with a nod. “I will help search for people.” 

They parted ways with little else said, both pulling strength from past experiences to overcome any hesitations that might be triggered by the sounds of mass hysteria. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N   
> I found an interesting page about the first appearance of an Australian/New Zealand team riding in the Tour de France in 1928. In case you’re interested: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1928_Tour_de_France
> 
> Thanks for reading! I’d love to hear from you!  
> peace and love, my friends,   
> ~jazzy


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Welcome back! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Still not my characters, but I sure hope you like my story! 

After a brief introduction to the woman Phryne understood to be the Mobile Charge Nurse, she was quickly assigned to evaluate locals seeking medical assistance - a form of triage - and as such, would help determine the extent of injuries that might need to be tended. Speaking to her third potential patient, a young girl, perhaps four years younger than Jane had been when Phryne first took her in, Phryne felt herself shiver at the child’s torment. This girl, frightened and small, was crying for her family, for her mother and her older sister, neither of whom appeared to be nearby. Squatting down to the girl’s eye level, Phryne gently cupped her thin biceps, careful of any possible injuries. She took a cloth and wiped black soot from the child’s face, speaking calmly. 

“Can you tell me your name?” Phryne was surprised at the ease with which she slipped into the French dialect she’d learned all those years ago. 

“Charlotte,” the girl managed through a sob. “My name is Charlotte.”

“Very good, Charlotte.” Phryne smiled, her eyes sweeping downward quickly. “My name is a Phryne. Can you tell me if you’re hurt anywhere?” 

The girl shook her head to the negative but pointed to her knee, which showed evidence of an abrasion. “I fell down,” she said as she turned to point at one house, “when the loud crash from upstairs happened. And the ceiling made terrible noises.”

Phryne suspected, eyeing the building, that the roof likely caved into the second floor. “You were downstairs?” The house was not completely engulfed in flames, but the poor structure was sagging and smoldering. Its neighboring home was, by that point, little more than a blackened frame and Phryne wondered if there were any children in that home as well. 

Charlotte nodded, new tears forming. “The man came in and pulled me out from under the table. I didn’t want to leave. Mama and Lynna are there...” The tears were flowing full force again, and Phryne tried to calm the child, carefully cleaning the scrape and doing a cursory examination for any other injuries the girl might not have realized she’d gotten. 

“Alright, then,” she gently knuckled the girl’s chin so she’d face away from the fire and destruction that still wasn’t completely under control. “Look at me please. Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” She didn’t suspect Charlotte of having a head injury, but it was crystal clear that she was preoccupied with looking for her family. Phryne hoped that the fireman who had saved Charlotte had been able to save the family, as well. Distracting the child for a few minutes, Phryne had managed to conduct additional cursory examinations of the girl’s well-being.

“Charlotte! Charlotte!” The cry of a distressed mother broke through the cacophony of noises. “Lotte!” Charlotte turned from Phryne instantly. 

“Mama!” She waved frantically, knowing her mother saw her, she called again. “I’m here, Mama!” 

Phryne watched as the woman swept Charlotte into her arms, burying her face into the girl’s hair. “Lotte, my love, I couldn’t find you.” 

“The man brought me out. Where is Lynna?” 

Emerging through the soot and smoke behind the small reunion, a fireman carried a bundle in his arms, his head tipped down as he shielded the smaller body in his arms. 

“Medic! Medic!” 

A nurse and a man Phryne suspected was a doctor rushed to the fireman’s side, quickly relieving him of his charge and rushing the child to the emergency van, Charlotte and her mother close on their heels. 

Everything around Phryne seemed to suddenly slip into slow motion… As they moved, Charlotte was talking to her mother and pointing to the man, claiming he’d been her rescuer… The mother was calling out to Lynna, attempting to keep her calm while dragging Charlotte towards the bustle of medics flooding around her eldest daughter... And finally, Phryne’s brain caught up with her ears, and she realized the fireman had been calling for a medic in English,  _ not in French _ . She watched as the man turned back towards the blaze, as if ready to charge back in to search for more victims when, instead, he nodded in response to instructions issued by another man who was obviously in charge, and he backed away from the flames. 

Phryne felt her mouth go dry and her knees grow weak. She’d know that swagger anywhere… The slight, distinctive lean of the man’s posture was a dead giveaway, suit or no suit. The Lady Detective found herself frozen in place, dumbfounded, as her partner watched the building before him suddenly glow with flames newly reignited by something inside. The intense heat forced him to back away slowly, but he never turned. She studied his shoulders when they slumped in exhaustion and official firemen pushed past him with a new load of water, rushing towards the flames in a vain attempt to gain control. 

She continued to stare as the woman cradling Charlotte with such desperation approached him and began to sob, causing him to finally turn away from the wreckage and acknowledge the young mother. Phryne’s eyes flew towards the ambulance van, where the second girl, Lynna, was laid out on a mobile stretcher, engaged in a conversation with the nurse. 

Swiveling her head, she saw the stranger pulling back from a grateful embrace, only to be quickly replaced by the sprite of a girl called Charlotte, as she clung to her hero’s thighs. When they turned to make their way back to the ambulance, the man turned around. Walking aimlessly from the burning building, he looked down at himself, cataloguing the injuries he sustained. 

Satisfied that he had somehow emerged relatively unscathed, save for a few bruises and scrapes, and a rather nasty burn across the center of his palm, Jack lifted his head to take care of where he was going. As if pulled by an invisible force, his eyes locked on Phryne’s immediately and he stopped moving, his jaw falling slack at the sight in the near distance. 

Before his brain could process and apply reason to his surroundings, a man he knew as Luc appeared in front of him. Luc was one of the consulting medical doctors on call for cyclists participating in the amateur race and had received word that one of his competitors had taken it upon himself to lend aid to the fire brigade. 

“Jacques!” Luc touched Jack’s shoulder lightly, unsure of the man’s condition after running headlong into a burning building. “Jacques, you are alright, yes?” He spoke to Jack in heavily accented English. Jack had been grateful that he’d been assigned to a team on which there were English-speaking men, as he quickly realized that he’d forgotten much more French than expected since his departure in 1918. 

“Uhh, yes… Yes,” Jack replied distractedly, looking down at himself once again, recalling that he was, in fact, slightly injured. He raised his hand, exposing his palm for the doctor. “Though I did manage to get burned when I pulled a beam aside to fetch the little girl.” He nodded towards the medical tent, where the little family was still gathered and the nurse tended to Lynna’s injuries. 

Luc immediately focused on Jack’s hand and motioned towards a nearby bench. “Come, sit,” he said. “I will examine and dress the wound.” 

It was only then that Jack noticed Luc’s ever-present bag in his other hand, filled, he was soon to learn, with all manner of medical paraphernalia. His eyes drifted back to where he’d seen his former love-interest, only to find the area void of anyone other than local villagers. 

“I, uhh, might have hit my head, as well,” he admitted quietly, assuming he’d been hallucinating. 

“I will have a look. Here, sit,” he encouraged Jack once again, escorting him closer to the bench. 

As Luc gave Jack a thorough once-over, the Australian’s eyes swept the crowd and his brain started blocking out the white noise filling the background. While concentrating on the many faces in a sea of people, he answered Luc’s questions when asked. He complied by tilting his head this way and that, sitting forward then back, and inhaling on demand, pushing through the cough that erupted, courtesy of the excess smoke to which he’d been subjected inside the home. Finally, Luc settled on the bench beside him, carefully cleaning the burn on his hand. 

“Your head is fine, my friend, but I fear you will not be a happy man, Jacques. I am responsible for the safety and well-being of the riders in my care…” The doctor’s eyes flicked up quickly, then back down at his hand. “You are not fit to continue tomorrow, I’m afraid.” 

This declaration got Jack’s attention and he whipped his head around to look at the younger man. 

“Nonsense!” His eyes zeroed in on Luc’s wrinkled brow as the doctor’s attention was lowered, focusing, instead, on Jack’s palm. “I’ve been through worse. Certainly I can continue tomorrow with the rest of my group.” 

“Jacques,” Luc deadpanned, meeting the foreigner’s gaze. “You are a strong man, yes, but your lungs, they have inhaled considerable smoke, and...” 

“My lungs,” Jack interrupted sharply, “inhaled more than that during the war, and I kept marching, kept fighting…”

“That was, what, ten, twelve years ago, my friend?” He knew Jack’s type and he admired the man. Jack was clearly someone who put his all into everything; he had an intensity and drive that pushed him to do more, to do better. Luc, however, had to look out for Jack’s health, first and foremost - it would not do to have the only Australian registered in the amateur race to keel over the following day simply because he was too stubborn for his own good. “Besides,” Luc continued when Jack had the nerve to look insulted. “With this,” he motioned to Jack’s dominant hand, “you’ll not be gripping any bicycle handlebars anytime soon…”

Jack looked down at his palm, wincing at the reality of the doctor’s statement. Now that the soot had been washed off, he could see the tender layers of flesh exposed where his outer epidermis layers had been compromised by the heat. Flexing his fingers experimentally, he felt a twinge of pain shooting up his arm and he opened his span once again, glaring accusingly at his traitorous body. 

“Dammit,” he grunted, stubbornly trying to make a fist again, only to be stopped my Luc. 

“No,” he simply said. “I will apply this,” he held up a bottle of unknown substance, “to help with the pain; once your adrenaline wears off, you’re going to feel it…” He spread the ointment onto Jack’s injury and wrapped it carefully with a sterile cloth. “You must keep clean.” He met Jack’s eyes with sympathy. “I feel great sorrow to stop you from racing, but,” he glanced over at the medical tent and nodded to the mother and two daughters, “they are, I’m certain, forever grateful for your rapid and heroic actions. That is, perhaps,  _ some  _ consolation...”

Jack followed the doctor’s line of sight and nodded. He would do it again, if a family were in danger and he knew he could help; it just hurt to think that yet another dream of his had been abruptly shattered. 

“Yes, well, my entry was rather last minute,” he deflected and refocused on his wound. “There’s no indication I’d even finish the race if I were to continue… After all, I haven’t been training for this... I just happened to see the advert when I was visiting…” He was about to say he was visiting a friend, but quickly bit his tongue. “When I was visiting London,” he amended. 

Luc finished dressing the burn and nodded in empathy. He had no doubt this man would have finished the race in respectable time, if driven by sheer determination alone, but he didn’t voice his belief, not wanting to add insult to injury. “You should be proud of yourself, Monsieur Robinson. And perhaps next year, you can visit us again, and race once more.”

Jack appreciated Luc’s attempt to make him feel better. “Perhaps,” he responded without heart, knowing that he had no intention of coming back to this part of the world once he’d moved on. Raising his eyebrows, he tilted his head. “What of my personal belongings? They will have been sent ahead to the finish.” 

Since Jack was a visitor to the country, with no place of permanence for his personal effects, his suitcase with the bulk of his belongings had been crated and destined to await his arrival at the finish line several days later; like his fellow racers, he carried with him only what he needed. 

“Yes, I will telephone and arrange to have your belongings brought to you or I can arrange transportation for you to be taken there?” 

Unsure what his next move would actually be, now that he was completely on his own again with no deadline looming over his head, Jack decided to find his own way. “I think I will stay here for a day or two before finding my next adventure. Please request that the box be returned to me here, in the care of the Inn.”

“Of course,” Luc smiled in a friendly manner. He quite liked the Australian tourist and would miss their conversations as he continued to travel with the other cyclists. They’d gotten on rather well, and the doctor didn’t often find such an easy report with strangers. “I will go and make the call now. You’re items should be returned to you tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Luc,” Jack accepted the outstretched hand, shaking it with a sad smile. “I am sorry to miss the rest of the run, but appreciate all your assistance. I’ve quite enjoyed our chats these past several days. Thank you.”

“Farewell, Jacques Robinson. I wish only safe journeys ahead for you.” 

Jack watched Luc walk away and sighed. Refusing to brood and wallow in sorrow at his turn of luck, he shook his head and glanced around once more. With a final barely-there-smile, he watched as a nurse waved goodbye to the young family he’d helped, and he suddenly felt better for himself; perhaps it was Fate that had brought him to this little village on this day with the sole purpose of ensuring the safety of three souls. He couldn’t say for certain that no one else would have stepped in to help, but he distinctly recalled the lack of enthusiasm in any of the other bystanders when a high-pitched scream was carried out through the open window of the home. 

Renewed with goodwill, he turned on his heel, intending to wander back to the Inn, where he would proceed to clean up and then get a bite to eat. The chaos that had swallowed the village during the onset of the fire was waning now that the few remaining flames were under control. Jack sighed in relief that there didn’t appear to be any casualties, only a few flame-related injuries. 

Within the span of three steps, he felt his eyes pulled to his side, where two gentlemen were calmly stooping to lift a stretcher from the ground, and headed towards the ambulance. His stormy blues, again, caught sight of a face he recognized all too well, and his feet stopped moving at the return of the unexpected vision. 

Phryne had been frantically interrupted when she first spotted Jack in the distance. Now that she had dismissed her urgent patient to the care of the true medical professionals, her attention returned to seek him out. As if Mother Nature herself was conspiring to push them together, they found themselves separated by no more than a dozen meters. 

Without missing a beat, Phryne broke out into a full run, closing the distance between them quickly. 

“ _ Jack _ !” She cried as she ran, noting that it was only after she called his name that he seemed to break from his trance. 

Tilting his head at the oncoming freight train, he wondered briefly if he had actually perished in that building fire and was now in heaven… Or perhaps he was in that place of suffering that had scared Hugh so much as the young man studied for his conversion…  _ Purgatory _ … Was he being sentenced to suffer in purgatory for the sins he committed in life, and was now to be reminded repeatedly of the one woman he’d truly coveted but would never have? 

_No_ , he thought as she grew closer, almost in slow motion. _This isn’t Purgatory..._ _This is Hell…_

Suddenly, she was upon him. All he could do was open his arms and brace himself to catch her as she leapt up. Without preamble, her legs wrapped around his hips and her arms closed around his shoulders. “Jack!” She breathed, unable to believe that she had finally found him. And not a moment too soon. “Thank God you’re alright. Thank God I found you…” 

Staggering only slightly under the sudden assault, Jack widened his stance to gain more stability. It was purely instinct that allowed him to wrap his arms around her, holding her body against his torso safely, careful not to drop her. 

“Miss Fisher…” He could smell her perfume, the lavender of her shampoo, and something that was distinctly  _ Phryne _ . Even through the smoke and acrid odor of burning wood, he could easily pick out her fragrance. He wasn’t dead… He had managed to get out of that building alive and well… 

And  _ now,  _ he was thoroughly confused...

“Miss Fisher, what are you doing here?” He released her slowly, allowing her to drop her feet to the ground. “I understand you’re meant to be off... planning your wedding…” 

~MFMM~ 

Pushing him down onto a bench, she wiped black soot from his face, frantic to uncover and treat any possible injuries the doctor had missed. “Close your eyes,” she demanded, tilting his chin up, hiding her fear with false bravery. 

Jack looked up obligingly, but refused to close his eyes, searching her face as if he was looking at a ghost. She stood close, positioned between his parted knees, and she still hadn’t answered his question. 

After finally releasing him from her embrace, she had ordered him, instead, to sit immediately so she could see to his wounds. He watched her carefully as she bit her bottom lip and tended to cleaning his forehead and proceeded to run her fingers through his unkempt hair, feeling for any unseen injuries. It was obvious that her intense focus was an effort to control her emotions, as there were unshed tears behind her concerned blues. 

“Close your eyes,” she said again, quieter than before, her voice quivering as her coping mechanism faltered. 

“Phryne,” he whispered, his hands gravitating without permission to her hips, keeping her in place and closer than what would be strictly appropriate. He didn’t care about propriety in that moment, however. He cared only to understand what the hell was going on. 

“I have to make sure you’re not hurt,” she tried to deflect, her argument weak. 

“I’m fine, Miss Fisher,” he promised and flexed his fingertips against her, ignoring the sting of pain in his hand. “You didn’t answer my question… What are you doing here?” 

Blinking back traitorous tears, she shook her head. She had imagined their reunion so very differently to how it was turning out. She’d imagined it in so many ways, from the very moment she dared him to come after her, she lost count. None of her fantasies, however, featured Jack covered in sweat and ash, smelling of fire and seated beside an ambulance van in a remote village in France... None of her visions included an emotional mother and two children hovering nearby to bestow yet another bout of praise and appreciation upon him... Never did she see herself traipsing across unknown territories in a desperate attempt to find him, all the time wondering if he would forgive her for the terrible mess in which they found themselves… and yet, here they were. 

“Jack,” she cupped his cheek. “I came looking for you. I’ve been searching for you and following the race path for days…” 

“I don’t understand. Your father-“

“Is an idiot,” she cut him off. “A stark-raving idiot, and when I see him next, you may be forced to arrest me for murder.” 

Bending at her waist, she pressed her forehead against his and inhaled slowly. Beneath the pungent scent of destruction, hidden below the layers of now-ruined clothing, she could still smell him - that unique scent of comfort that was simply  _ Jack _ . The tension in her shoulders evaporated; she was clear on the other side of the world, but she was suddenly home - with him. “My father had no right to tell you, Jack…”

Misunderstanding, his brow wrinkled against hers as he felt his ire start to rise. “ _ You _ wanted to be the one to break the news to me?” He used his purchase on her hips to urge her backwards, silently cursing himself for almost falling into old habits and succumbing to her wiles. He pushed to his feet, and eyed her coldly. “What - You wanted to be the one to see my expression when I learned the truth that my journey, the most rash decision I’d made in all my life, had all been for naught? That you had simply invited me on a whim, and that none of it meant anything? That I wasn’t worthy of even the slightest warning?” 

All the emotions that had been bottling up since walking away from the Fisher-family residence – all the embarrassment, the anger, the  _ pain _ – was suddenly pouring out through his words. He had tried to cycle his way through the unexpected hurt that had shattered his heart, tried to use sheer physicality to exorcise her from his very soul. And what does she do? She turns up in the middle of his attempt at peace, only to wrench his chest open.  _ Again _ . He clenched his jaw, determined not to let her get under his skin. He had his bearings now, and he’d damn well keep his wits about him. 

“Well,” he didn’t notice the mixed emotions flickering across her face – confusion, hurt, shock – he just focused on his need to stand strong without her. “Rest assured, Miss Fisher, I received your message  _ loud and clear _ . Your father was perfectly suited to look upon me with pity, and the discouraging expression painted on the face of your family’s butler told me just what sort of poor impression I must make upon a first meeting.”

“Jack, wait,” she placed her hand in his chest, wanting to explain the situation. She recognized the darkness in his eyes… she saw it once before, when she had cancelled their dinner engagement, and he hadn’t yet known her father was to blame.  _ Her father! Damn him! _ If he had just stayed away all those months ago, none of this would have happened. Instead, he came back into her life and all but ruined a perfectly good partnership, friendship and potential relationship. Phryne knew she had to explain quickly if she was going to get a chance at all. She handled the explanation poorly last time, she had to make it right this time. 

“Miss Fisher, I've waited long enough. Too long, perhaps, but it’s preferable to find out  _ now,  _ rather than later, after you’ve had not only my heart to break, but also my body and spirit. I relieve you of whatever misguided duty to which you felt obligated in being the one to break the news. I wish you only happiness in your new life, and in your future.” He suddenly grew softer, as if allowing himself to bid her a proper farewell. “If anyone deserves happiness in life, it’s you, Miss Fisher. And whoever he is, I hope he realizes what a lucky bastard he is, and what a treasure you are.” 

She bit back an uncharacteristic sob. “Jack-“

“Miss Fisher,” he plowed over her interruption, refusing to allow himself to become manipulated into any sort of hairbrained scheme she might be forming. “If you will excuse me, I’ve had quite an eventful evening and I’m very keen to go get cleaned up, eat and then rest. I might not have a race to continue tomorrow, but I certainly have a life to get on with.” He nodded stiffly and began to turn away, wishing she’d never sought him out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N
> 
> Ahh, the emotional highs and lows of these two…. They kill me! 
> 
> I’d love to hear from you! Thanks for reading! 
> 
> peace and love, my friends, 
> 
> ~jazzy


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 
> 
> Welcome back!
> 
> Disclaimer: *sigh* I’m so sad, these characters aren’t mine. Well, Luc was mine… And the little family that Jack saved… but our favorite duo, they definitely aren’t mine! 

“ _ Jack! Robinson! _ ” She practically stomped her foot as she grabbed his arm and jerked him back to face her. She didn’t know whether to cry or scream. “You are an insufferable... stubborn…” She was so angry at that moment, she could barely string together a coherent thought.  **_“Blind fool!_ ** **”** She fisted her hands at her sides in frustration. “I always gave you credit for being more intelligent than you’re currently acting, though!” When she saw him puff up ready to argue, she pressed her forefinger into his chest firmly, fixing him with a stern expression. “I stood here and listened to you ramble on with your nonsense and accusations, now  _ you  _ can listen to  _ me _ !” 

When he snapped his mouth shut, she was inwardly surprised that he obeyed. “I did not fly all the way to Australia and then all the way back to France, and then hire drivers to take me from one village to the next, for days on end, in search of an Auatralian cyclist that no one seemed to know, just so you could throw a temper tantrum and turn your back on me!” 

Jack eyed her, only then realizing how tired she looked, how her makeup was far from its standard application of perfection, how she was no longer fighting the tears. He felt a rush of embarrassment – she didn’t deserve his anger simply because another man had managed to capture her heart. He, of all people, should realize that love is a fickle emotion and a person can be blindsided by Cupid’s arrow. He simply wasn’t the winner of her affections and he had to be a man about it, and stop sulking. 

“You’re right, MissFisher,” he consented immediately. “I’m sorry. I let my emotions get the better of me… I truly wish only the best for you. I meant it when I said you deserve to be happy...”

She watched in fear as the stoic, distant expression of Detective Inspector Robinson replaced the more-familiar kindness of  _ her Jack _ . That’s not what she wanted; she didn’t want to go back to square one, but she realized in that instant that if she didn’t start explaining fast, she was going to lose him. 

“Stop  _ talking _ , Jack,” she fisted his shirt, holding him close as she took a cleansing breath. “I’ve been  _ searching for you _ , not to tell you that I’m getting married, because I’m  _ not  _ getting married. I was  _ never _ getting married. I was flying home because I spent  _ weeks _ missing you terribly, and I hadn’t received word that you were coming… So, I thought  _ I’d  _ better come home  _ to you _ .” 

She finally had his full attention at that, so she continued. “My reunion with Mother was less than stellar. I love her, of course, but I quickly remembered why I moved away from her as quickly as possible when I first left to join the Ambulance Corps. From the moment my plane wheels touched down, she started playing matchmaker to every eligible bachelor she could find, despite my insistence that I had no intentions of staying in London. I just couldn’t take it anymore... I couldn’t bear to listen to her demean my chosen profession, insult my household,  _ none of whom she’s even met _ , and most of all, I couldn’t stand by while she spoke with such disdain about the idea of my close working relationship with the Victoria Constabulary. I lost count of how many disagreements we had during my short visit about how she thought it unwise for me to be in constant company with an Officer of the Law.” She batted away a trail of tears angrily. 

“I sent a telegram to your house, assuming you were still in Melbourne since I hadn’t heard from you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the rumpled message that had still been stuck in his door when she, Dorothy and Rosie arrived at his bungalow. “One evening, when I was at my wits end, I sent this to you and sent another to the Lower London airfield with instructions to have my plane ready at sunrise.” She handed him the note. “I left London at first light the following day.” 

Speechless, he accepted the outstretched offering. 

**MISS YOU TERRIBLY /STOP**

**WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME /QUERY**

**BEGIN FLYING HOME AM /STOP**

**WAIT FOR ME /QUERY**

**PF /STOP**

Jack read the words three times, not trusting his comprehension. He slowly raised his eyes, opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, and shook his head. “Phryne, I don’t understand what happened...” Before she could answer, he dropped his hands to his sides and stepped closer, his gaze skipping across her features, noting the concern in her expression. “If what you hint at here is true...” he raised the telegram, but wasn’t able to finish his thought. 

“Of  _ course  _ it’s true, Jack!” She grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. “I  _ never  _ planned to fall in love with anyone,  _ ever _ ... but then you came along and shattered all of my carefully laid plans.” 

In the blink of an eye, Jack brought his hands up to cradle her face, his mouth crashing down over hers. The kiss at the airfield had been haunting her dreams nightly, but the strength and power of that single, stolen moment was dwarfed in comparison to this one.

Jack threaded his fingers into her hair, which was just as silky as he’d remembered. When Phryne gasped in surprise, he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue between her lips to meet hers. He groaned when she eagerly welcomed him. Jack felt her arms wrap around his waist and he let her tug him even closer, so their bodies were lined up perfectly, and he could feel her pressed close, chest to toe. 

He broke their kiss after several moments, resting his forehead against hers and smoothing his hands down her back. “I don’t understand how any of this happened, Phryne, but if you’ll forgive my outburst, I would be eternally grateful.”

“Silly man,” she muttered and pulled back to look up at him. “I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness.”

He tilted his head in a familiar fashion, the corners of his lips pulling downward as he searched her eyes. They had a lot to discuss, a lot of misinformation to clear up… Before doing anything, though, he needed to get cleaned up. He looked down at himself and back to her. “I need to wash… Then, perhaps… Join me for a bite to eat, and maybe a drink?” 

She nodded, grateful tears threatening to spring free. She glanced over his shoulder, realizing that during their reunion, the fire had been contained and the medic vans and nurses were no longer flooded with panic-filled residents. “Are you registered at the inn?”

“I am. It’s a small room, not very glamorous, I’m afraid… but there wasn’t much choice around here.” His smile was crooked and, she realized as her heart seized, exactly what she had been missing for months. 

She palmed his face. “Shall I meet you in the adjoining restaurant, then?” 

He dipped his chin once. “Give me twenty minutes.”

“I’ll see you there,” Phryne felt the anxiety and stress of the last several weeks melting away; his calming presence was remarkable and she filed the information away in the back of her mind for consideration at a later time. 

He started to turn away, only then realizing that their fingers were entwined, and he swept his thumb across her silky skin. “I can’t believe you’re here…”

She pushed up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Believe it, Jack. I’m here, and I’ll be waiting for you just down there,” she nodded down the road towards the town’s inn. “I’m just going to say goodbye to the nurses I met, and grab my belongings.” 

Watching him walk away, she felt a wave of affection wash over her. The clearing of a throat from close behind startled her. Turning quickly, she found herself face to face with a grinning Pierre, standing with her bag in hand. 

Nodding towards Jack’s retreating form, he nodded in approval. “You found your friend, yes?” 

She reached out and relieved him of her bag. “I did, Pierre. I can’t thank you enough for the ride. Can I compensate you?” She started to reach for her currency. 

“No, no,” he protested. “My delivery was coming here already. I am glad to help you reunite.” 

Phryne smiled broadly, handing him some money despite his declaration. “For your family, then,” she pushed the notes into his hand. “Please… you have a growing family, and you helped me tremendously.” 

He looked at the generous offer and tried to give it back; he felt it was far too much for just doing his job anyway. When she folded her arms across her body, he was unable to push the money back into her hands. 

“Take it. For your children, if not for yourself.” 

Unable to deny that the offer would certainly go a long way in providing for his family, he acquiesced graciously. “Merci,” he dipped his head. 

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N
> 
> Well finally! Again, as I indicated in my very first A/N, I don’t even know if any of this would be possible, but I’m enjoying the journey…. I hope you are too! 
> 
> peace and love, my friends, 
> 
> ~jazzy


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Welcome back to the final installment of this little tale! 
> 
> Note - there appears to be 2 comments at the end of the chapter, not sure why as only 1 is showing in my Edit page... sorry about that!! 
> 
> Disclaimer - no, I have not miraculously gained any ownership rights over these characters, but they have kindly allowed me to manipulate and weave them into my story tapestry!

Jack entered the restaurant and glanced around, quickly finding the table she’d chosen in a quiet corner. Nodding to a few fellow cyclists who were enjoying their meals, he accepted congratulatory praises on his heroic actions during the village’s unfortunate event as well as comments of regret that he wouldn’t be continuing on the race the following morning. As he neared Phryne’s table, he was approached by a local man. 

“Monsieur,” the man stopped Jack’s progress. “You are Mon. Robinson, no?”

“Yes,” Jack replied in French, hoping that his stilted understanding of the language wouldn’t prove this conversation to be too difficult… he was rather eager to join Phryne. 

“I am Lotte’s and Lynna’s father,” the man stated, unshed tears suddenly appearing as he eagerly grabbed Jack’s hand and started shaking it. “My wife tells me that we have you to thank for the safe rescue of our daughters as well as her own life.” He was very obviously speaking slow, trying to ensure that Jack understood the message. “I have no way to repay the debt, but we are eternally grateful.” 

“There is no debt, Sir,” Jack replied, understanding perfectly well, though his own reply was rudimentary at best. “I am glad I was able to help.” Typically, Jack didn’t like it when he was approached by victims, or the family of victims, in praise for doing that which was simply second nature to him. He could no more have turned away from that fire than he could have from a crime being committed in broad daylight. 

“There is great debt, you are very generous, and if I were able to give you something, I would.” 

Jack nodded uncomfortably. “Your gratitude is plenty. I wish you and your family well.” 

The men nodded and parted ways, allowing Jack to turn back towards Phryne. She had watched the entire interaction with interest and pride; Jack was one of the best men she’d ever known and that conversation was proof if nothing else. 

Jack smiled at her as he took his seat. Before he could speak, the waitress was at his side, placing a plateful of food before him. 

“Compliments of the owner, Monsieur. Tonight you eat and drink on the house.” She smiled warmly and turned to Phryne. “What can I bring to you, Mademoiselle?”

Phryne eyed Jack’s plate and realized how hungry she was. Turning back to the young woman at their side, she motioned to his plate. “I’ll have the pie, please,” she could smell the savory scents of meat and vegetables, which were making her mouth water. 

Once Phryne’s plate was placed in front of her and they both had drinks, Jack raised his glass in a toast. 

“To second chances?” He asked hesitantly and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when she tapped her glass against his gently. 

Tucking into the pie crust, Jack let a puff of steam escape and raised his eyes to find her watching him. “So,” he began, pulling a forkful up to his mouth. “Would you like to fill me in on what the hell your Father was on about?” 

~MFMM~

As they finished their dinner and dessert, on which the Inn proprietor had insisted they have, Jack reached across the table and took her hand. 

“I’m sorry I was so angry earlier. I guess I was just so hurt at the idea that I had missed my chance at being with you, and frustrated after my journey, I just couldn’t see straight.” His thumb swept absently across the soft skin of her palm. “I was confused and… jealous, I guess.” 

“You don’t need to explain, Jack. I understand. And I while I wish that it hadn’t happened, we can’t undo the past. All we can do is move forward, past it.” 

He nodded, searching her eyes, finding open affection watching him. Glancing around, he noted how the crowd had thinned and glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s late…”

She nodded in acknowledgement and met his dark eyes. “I guess I should speak with reception… See if they have a room available…” 

“Or…” He tilted his head sideways, his lips turning down at the corners. “Not…” 

Her lips pulled back in a brilliant smile. “Jack… Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” She folded her hands and batted her eyelashes. “You’ll turn my head, Jack Robinson…” 

He shrugged innocently, his eyebrows arching towards his hairline. “Well, there were not many rooms when we arrived off the bike route… I think we took them all…” He leaned forward, his forearms resting against the table. “In fact, I understand some of the lads had to double up and bunk together. I lucked out… got a room of my own…”

She, too, leaned forward, smiling conspiratorially. “Would you like company this evening, Jack?” 

“I don’t have a draughts board, but I might be able to rustle up a bottle of whiskey…” 

She reached down to grab her bag and nodded towards the door. “Lead the way, Inspector,” she winked.

~MFMM~

“Like I said, it’s small, and not very fancy,” he reiterated when they entered his room. He placed her bag beside the dresser. “But I have my own water closet…”

“What more does one need besides a bed and a water closet?” Phryne smirked and sashayed over towards the bed. It was smaller than hers at home, but it was bigger than a single. She decided instantly that it would do just fine. Turning back to face him, she saw a flash of doubt fleeting behind his eyes before he could hide it. “What’s the matter?” 

He stepped closer, taking her hand in his, wincing at the twinge of pain that radiated from his injury. “Phryne… I won’t ask you to change, I told you as much some time ago… But…” He swallowed thickly, uncertain of how he wanted to word his concern. 

Before he could voice it, she was already talking. “Jack, I am here _because_ you never asked me to change. Besides, you may not have asked me to do it, but I _have_ changed…”

“I don’t want you to ever feel caged, or obligated, or… or anything that you don’t want to feel.” _Jesus, Robbo,_ he scolded himself, _you’re blowing this, just kiss her already_ … But no, he needed to make sure this was crystal clear before they crossed that final line. “I can’t promise to be as liberal as you might need me to be, but I promise to try... And... if I can’t, then I understand it will be up to me to walk away… I will never put that on you…” 

“Jack,” she palmed his cheek. “I don’t need you to be anything more than you already are. You are a very modern and very liberal man already…” 

He started to shake his head to the negative. “I don’t know if… I don’t know how I will feel if we do this, and then I’m forced to see you with another man… I don’t want to be the jealous-type… but -” 

To stop his ramble, she closed the distance between them and pressed up to her toes, covering his mouth with hers. She let herself get lost in the taste and feel of him. Phryne Fisher was no stranger to desire and she was certainly no blushing virgin, but she felt a wave of heat course through her body like never before. Jack kissed with the same intensity, with the same undivided focus, as he had whenever he approached a new crime scene. He commanded their connection just as his presence commanded the scene. He was a powerful kisser, strong and soft, giving and taking, confident and understated… When the need for oxygen was overwhelming, she pulled back just enough to gulp for air. 

“Jack,” she whispered against his lips. “If I can have you… All of you… I don’t see myself wanting another man… For as long as you want this, whatever _this_ is, I will be with you and only you.” 

“Phryne,” he nipped playfully at her lower lip and nudged her nose with his. “That sounds an awful lot like commitment, you know…” 

She chuckled. “Yes, I know.” She tilted her head and met his eyes seriously. “I _need_ you to understand, though, that I do not wish to be married, Jack. And if that is something that you think you’re going to need, then I understand... and we don’t have to do this. We can remain as we are…”

He sealed the deal with another smouldering kiss, slipping his tongue past her lips as she gasped in surprise at his sudden move. Just as she started to melt against him, he pulled back and looked down into her pale eyes with an adoring expression. 

“I’m not really a fan of marriage, Miss Fisher… I’ve been there and it wasn’t all it’s cut out to be… But,” he raised an eyebrow, “I _am_ committed to you… I have been for quite some time now…” 

She smirked up at him, palming his cheek. “My darling, modern man…” 

~MFMM~

The sun filtered through the thin curtains, casting bands of light across his face. Jack stifled an early-morning yawn as his body fought to stay asleep while his mind was already whirring. The events of the past twenty-four hours seemed unreal, and yet, the pleasant weight against his shoulder and the fragrant strands of silky black hair against his cheek told him they were very real. He opened his eyes slowly and glanced down, smiling at the vision of her pale fingers splayed across his chest, possessive even in her sleep. 

He thought back to the previous night, the familiar ache of muscles too-long ignored reminded him that their evening had been wonderfully active, and he sighed in satisfaction. Rubbing his hand along the length of her bare arm, he savored her softness as he tried to flex his other hand, only to grimace at the unpleasant sensation of scorched flesh. 

“Don’t,” she mumbled and moved her hand from his chest, reaching for his injured hand and pulling it back to rest beside hers on his torso. “Don’t pull your skin. I’ll put more ointment on it when we get up.” She spoke against his chest, her sleepy voice tugging at his heart in ways she would never know, because he couldn’t even put it into words. 

He tightened the arm that was holding her and when she shivered against the cool morning air, he reached down for the blanket and pulled it back up around them. Kissing her hair, he breathed her in and hummed. “I’m sorry I woke you.” 

She shook her head, still not moving from her place against him. “S’ok,” she muttered, her fingers stretched around the wrist of his bandaged hand. “I’ve been in and out of sleep for a little while.” Finally, she lifted her cheek from its place against his pectoral muscle so she could look up at him. “It’s like my mind kept willing me to wake up to make sure it was still real… That you were really here…” 

He chuckled and palmed her head, moving her back into position gently so he could kiss her black bob again. “I know what you mean… My body kept taking stock of where you were, to make sure I wasn’t imagining you…” 

She smiled against his warmth and snuggled into the blankets, eager to slip back into a still-sated sleep. “What time is it?” She hoped it wasn’t late, she wanted to stay where they were for a little longer… 

“Still early,” he brought his hand up to her head and finger-combed her hair; really just an excuse to touch her. “We don’t have to get up yet.” 

“Good,” she hummed and pressed a sleepy kiss against his skin, inhaling his familiar scent, now mixed with her own in a way that seemed perfectly natural. “I’m still tired…” 

“Sleep, Phryne,” he kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

Soundlessly, his eyes snapped open… He’d been so careful not to say the words the night before; he didn’t want to scare her, despite her claims. He wanted to wait and see how she felt about him after a few days, or a few weeks with him at her side before he came out with the whole declaration of love… and now, with his subconscious already falling back to sleep, his mouth just let the words tumble out without permission. He held his breath and wondered if, by luck, she had already fallen back to sleep before the three little syllables were unleashed to the universe. When she didn’t respond in either a positive or negative way, he suspected he’d escaped any seething reaction and started to breathe again, his body releasing the sudden onslaught of tension that had invaded his otherwise relaxed frame. 

Without preamble, Phryne stretched her naked form against his and nuzzled again, his pale chest hair tickling her nose pleasantly. “Hmm,” she sounded pleased as she slid her thigh up, tucking it between his as if they were made to fit together, two puzzle pieces finally joined. Pressing a kiss against his warm skin, she said something she’d vowed to avoid for the rest of her life... “Love you, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Postscript A/N
> 
> So…. there we have it. At the moment, this is the last chapter in this little adventure. I was tempted to take it further, I was tempted to take it into a more M-rated direction, but it just felt right to end it here… I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Thanks, also, to those who took the time to follow, comment or add kudos; this is the only way we know, as amateur writers, if our thoughts are coming across in such a way that they’re understandable and/or enjoyable. Your words are fuel for the Muse’s fire and for that, I thank you.mI'm really hoping this breaks my writer's block, or dry spell, or whatever you want to call it... I miss writing and I want desperately to get back into the swing of things...   
> If you celebrate the holidays, I wish you and yours a Happy Season, whatever your celebration. If you don't celebrate, then I wish you all the best in the New Year!
> 
> peace and love, my friends, 
> 
> ~jazzy

**Author's Note:**

> Postscript A/N  
> So, I don’t really know what Phryne’s mother would be like - she might be the sweetest person in the world, but for my purposes, I needed Phryne to be angry enough to up and leave London without further delay. I have never read the Phryne books, so I don’t know if there if reference in there to her mother; I mean no disrespect if I’m misrepresenting her! 
> 
> I’d love to hear from you. 
> 
> peace and love, my friends,  
> ~jazzy


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